


Saved Me From Death That Would Never Come

by friendlyneighborhoodassassin



Category: Deadpool (Comics)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-14
Updated: 2014-07-31
Packaged: 2018-01-12 10:24:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1185155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/friendlyneighborhoodassassin/pseuds/friendlyneighborhoodassassin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Deadpool finds Bernadette LaBeau, Gambit's daughter, while on a mission and takes her back to his apartment to let her rest. After she informs him of her living situation, he insists she stay with him. Completely unlike him, he takes care of her. And she takes care of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"You know who else is dead?" He yelled, "Not me!"  
Deadpool ran down the hallway shooting, laughing and shouting witty catchphrases. As he neared the door to the office that was currently occupied by a Neal McLaughlin (some dude he was sent to kill), he saw the big guy that blocked it.  
"Shh..." He giggled as he snuck up behind him and swung his hammers, killing him instantly, "Who dies from hammers? Seriously...?"  
Just as he reached for the door another guy his size barrelled down the hall after him. Once he was in range he jumped over him and smashed his head. He chuckled and said in his dramatic voice, "In a world where dip-shits get killed by hammers..."  
He put the hammers back on his back and sauntered-  
"Hey, chick, I don't saunter. I strut." He stated.  
This is my fic, man.  
"Alright, continue."  
Thank you, he put the hammers back on his back and strutted to the door. Once he got to the handle, he briefly wondered how much protection this guy would have in here. With his regeneration he wouldn't die, but it still hurt like a bitch to get back together.  
He threw open the door with guns ready and was entirely confused with the scene before him.  
"....the fuck?" He mumbled.  
There were at least 17 grown men laying dead in pools of their own blood around the room. Including his target who was flopped over his desk unceremoniously and the culprit of this chaos was the most confusing part. He dropped his arms at the sight of a teen girl standing in the middle of the room wearing black skinny jeans and a black button up with a vest and tie. She was soaked in blood from head to toe and looked like she was either going to cry or vomit, he couldn't tell.  
"Uh, sup?" He took a step closer.  
"Who are you?" She asked in a thick cajun accent, not moving or looking at him.  
"Deadpool's the name." He took a couple steps closer wondering what to do with her. 'Should we kill her?' {no! She's too young! She looks like 16...} 'should....should we bang her?' {NO! SHE'S LIKE 12!} 'right, didn't really wanna.' {maybe we should take her with us?} 'sounds good.'  
He realised she was looking at him now. She was visibly shaking and she dropped the knife.  
"You....alrigh- oof-" She ran over to him and had her arms tightly wrapped around his midsection.  
"Please, just get me out of here..." She begged, trembling against him.  
"No....uh, no hugs." He pealed her off and turned to the door awkwardly. He didn't hear her footsteps behind him, "Well come on!"  
She suddenly chased after him. He jogged out of the room, down the hall and rounded a corner. When turning the corner he made sure she was still keeping up. Once they got to the elevator he pushed her in.  
"You're not some rapist or something, right?" She asked calmly.  
"Dontcha think I would've done that already if I was going to?" He retorted.  
"Good point." She nodded. "Uhm, I'm not particularly sure how to tell you... but, uh, your arm's about to fall off."  
He glanced down at his disconnected arm that was bleeding profusely.  
"Oh, gimme a sec." He shoved the arm back up and into place and hissed at it healing.  
"So you're a mutant too?" She asked.  
"No, well, kinda." He chuckled, "Weapon X."  
"You're Wade Wilson?" She looked slightly in awe.  
"You bet it, sweet cheeks." He it his hands on his hips.  
"Oh. You knew my dad." She returned to normal.  
"And who's your dad?" He asked.  
"Remy LaBeau." She stated. {explains the accent.}  
"Really?" I questioned, "show me something mutanty."  
"You got a card?" She asked.  
"Fresh out." He shrugged.  
"You got anything paper?" She dripped sarcasm.  
"Uh, note card?" He flipped it out and handed it to her.  
"That'll do it, cher." She winked.  
The card flickered a little and she flicked her wrist at him. He felt it hit him in the chest. He looked down.  
"Where is it?" Wilson looked at her.  
She grinned, "Look again."  
He looked back down and saw a bloody spot on his suit right threw his heart. He also saw that she hadn't even turned her head. {Impressive.} 'I guess, for a teen.' {But really, where did it go to?}  
He groped at his back and felt the note card. He pulled out half then glanced over at her.  
"Nice, kid." He smirked sticking his fingers in the wound to fish out the last bit of note card.  
"Thanks," she followed him out of the elevator and outside, "if you don't mind my askin', where are we headed?"  
"You got a cute little accent y'know," he giggled, {Stop being a pedophile.} 'what? It is cute.' "Oh, and my apartment."  
"Your apartment?" She asked sort of nervous sounding.  
"Yeah," he started climbing a ladder on the side of a building, "look, I'm not as creepy-pedo as I seem."  
"O-okay." She hesitantly followed him up the ladder.  
After a few building jumps and an alleyway or two they got to his apartment building.  
"Least it's classy." She remarked sarcastically.  
"Hey, it works. It's cheap and they don't kick me out for blood smells." He laughed.  
"Makes since." She followed him into the trashy building and up to the fifth floor via an elevator.  
"Mi casa es su casa," He kicked open the door and slung it shut, "I figure you want a shower?"  
"Yes , please," I nodded, "I'm sticky, cold and it smells like copper. Don't really mind that last part but its getting overwhelming overwhelming."  
"Kinda surprised no one tried to stop a guy in sexy red spandex and a girl covered in blood." He chucked leading he into his bedroom.  
"Sexy?" She laughed, "Someone's a little confident."  
"Well it is sexy isn't it?" He swung his hips with his hands behind his head.  
"Mega-hot." She grinned sarcastically.  
"Hey, it's alright, I know you want me." Deadpool nodded confidently, "Okay. Well here it is." He turned it on and awkwardly left.  
"You got any clothes I could borrow?" She stopped him.  
"Oh, forgot about that." He turned and wen into his bedroom for a minute or two. "Here."  
He handed her an AC/DC t-shirt, black sweats (that tied up so she could fit them), a pair of boxers, and a towel.  
"Thanks, cher." She winked, taking off her glasses.  
He stood there not sure what he should do.  
"That's your signal to go, hun." She laughed.  
"Oh, yeah, sorry." He turned and closed the door behind himself.  
She analysed the bathroom a bit while the water was getting hot; small, dirty, and bloody. She began peeling off blood-stained clothing and was almost ready to step in when she noticed there was no soap, shampoo or anything by that matter in the stall.  
"Okay..." She thought. She opened the medicine cabinet and looked; pills, pills, pills, more pills, lube (ew), toothpaste, pain cream, numbing cream, and a bottle of gel soap.  
"That's a relief. " she mumbled, stepping in.  
After showering, she dried off and looked through the pile of clothes he brought. She picked up the boxers and slid them on. They almost fell off but whatever. She threw on the t-shirt and attempted to tie the sweats as much as possible. She slid on her glasses and towelled her curly hair.  
"Ah, fuck." She knew her shoulder-length hair was going to be crazy curly when it dried with the lack of a brush but she'd deal.  
When she got out, she was greeted with an odd site. Deadpool was sitting on his couch in nothing but black boxer briefs and his mask reading what she would assume was a porn magazine.  
"Well, hello beautiful." He jumped a little at the sudden noise but returned to reading.  
"Hey.... Uh, what's your name, baby girl?" He asked sitting up now and putting down the magazine.  
"Bernadette LaBeau," she sat down next to him curling into a comfy ball on his chest, "friends call me Burn though."  
He awkwardly patted her shoulder, "Okay, Burn, this is a little close."  
"I'm cold and sleepy..." She nuzzled into his neck and wrapped an arm around his waist.  
"I'm... hungry and a little horny so no cuddles, baby girl." He pushed her onto the other side of the couch and stood up to walk into the kitchen.  
"Aw," she got up and reluctantly followed him, "whatcha making?"  
"Pancakes." He clapped, "s'all I do."  
"Sounds good," She sat at the little table and messed with a deck of cards sitting there, "what's with the mask?"  
"Not in the mood to clean up vomit." He responded nonchalantly.  
"What's that supposed to mean?"  
"It means, this-" he motioned to his masked face, "usually makes girls puke."  
"Why?"  
"See these?" He gestured to his severely scarred body.  
"Yeah."  
"My face is worse."  
"So?" She laughed, "I think they're hot. All.... edgy."  
"Very funny, kid." He returned to the pancakes.  
"No really they look cool. And I'm not a kid you know. I'm 17."  
"Well," chuckled, "that's a first."  
He grabbed the back of the neck of his mask and yanked it off to through it.  
His face wasn't much worse than the rest of him. The worst part was that it looked like he was once really attractive. His eye sockets were dark which made a large contrast from his pale blue eyes. All the cuts and craters on his skin made him look ...strange but not awful.  
"I don't know what your deal is." She got up, "you look fine."  
"Fine?" He plate the pancakes, "Sweetie, if this is your idea of fine you have been hanging with some ugly dudes."  
"You're not a stud-model but I think you look nice." She remarked honestly, "Your complexion isn't fabulous but you have good bone structure, fascinating eyes, and kissable lips."  
"Really?" He looked at her in an almost depressingly hopeful way.  
"Yeah," she answered grabbing a plate, "why would I lie to a guy I barely know?"  
He snapped out of the sweet face, "I knew I was hot."  
"Totally." She smirked.  
"So," she chowed on the pancakes, "What were you doing at the GM building?"  
"I could ask you the same," he practically inhaled the first pancake, "I was working."  
"Ah, mercenary." She said, "I forget."  
"What about you?"  
"I was there by accident. I'd been talking to Neal McLaughlin for about a week about putting me in his act at the casino. He asked me to show him my routine and he found out I was a mutant. He sent all those guys on me and I just acted out of instinct."  
"Hmm," he finished up his third pancake and stood up, "that was the guy I was sent to kill."  
"Ironic." She handed him her plate, "why is it so messy in here?"  
"Do I look like a house keeper?"  
"Not particularly," she laughed, " do you like clean stuff?"  
"Love it," he strode into the living room again and turned in the tv, "just don't love it enough to do it."  
He plopped in a chair in front of the tv.  
"You got a blanket?" She asked shivering a little.  
"Behind the couch." He didn't look away, "Use the red one though."  
"Tempted to ask why..?"  
"You don't wanna know."  
She grabbed the red blanket and wrapped it around herself as she laid down on the couch again. She wanted to ask Wade Wilson a bunch more questions. He was the famous merc with a mouth, Deadpool. He was very relaxedly flopped on his chair watching an old episode of Honey Boo-Boo.  
"I hate this show." He laughed, standing up.  
"You don't sit still very long do you?" She wondered out loud.  
"I'm heading to bed." He sauntered into his bedroom and plopped onto his bed.  
She sat thinking what her dad might do when she doesn't come home tomorrow like she said she would. She concluded that he wouldn't get that butt-hurt about it knowing that she could easily defend herself. She heard him snoring softly already an she slid off the oversized sweatpants.  
Even though she was cold she was now more comfortable in the boxers so she stared outside. It was a fairly grimy city. It could be worse but it wasn't the cleanest part of town. She missed New Orleans a little already and pondered getting up to sneak in bed with the very warm body that is Wade Wilson. After a few minutes of involuntary shivering and no success of trying to sleep she got up and quietly padded into his room. He snored quietly and slept on his back. She wiggled under the cover and laid her head on his chest. She slowly slid a leg over his and squished into his warm torso. Still snoring, he turned on his side and pulled her into his chest with scarred arms wrapped around her. She smiled contently warm and fell off to sleep.

A/N: UPDATE: change of mind. This is now rated appropriately and will probably have smut at some point. It's no longer a parent!Deadpool fic and is now a regular one! ~Love, Your Friendly Neighborhood Assassin~


	2. Not Easy

Chapter 2  
Burn woke up first. She concluded that he was definitely a snuggler since he was basically bear hugging her. At some point in the night, she had slid her thigh in between his, he had wrapped his arms around her and they had gotten so close together she could feel his heart beating.  
This calming moment didn't last very long though. She felt him stir little by little until he groaned a question, "Why are you in my bed?"  
"I was cold and I wanted to snuggle. Good morning, cher." She buried her face into his collar and tried to stay there. Of course he wanted to get up.  
"C'mon, let me get up."  
She untangled from him and he rolled out of bed. He stretched fully when he got up, then stumbled into his bathroom. She didn't bother moving from that spot on the bed and just pulled the blankets up to her chin.  
After a few minutes he emerged in his suit again.  
"I'm gotta go on patrol for a few hours. Just, uh, well stay here I guess." He began getting all his weapons on. Once he got his calf blade on he noticed her standing right behind him in his boxers and T-shirt.  
"What? No kiss goodbye, cher?" She giggled.  
"Very funny, kid." He turned to the window and jumped out.

After she found a suitable pair of sweats, she tamed her hair a little, replaced her glasses and searched through her now blood-stained clothing for her cell phone and wallet.  
She texted her father to inform him of her safety.  
Burn: Ey pa, I'm good. At a friend house. Be home soon.  
Dad: Where are you  
Burn: In town, wit Deadpool. Be home soon. 

He didn't ever answer her back so she assumed that he was content. She walked into the kitchen in hopes of a drink and some food. Sadly all she found was alcohol and some old pancakes.  
"He's the most de'pouille man I ever met..." She mumbled.  
She set out cleaning his kitchen, which she soon realized was more of a chore than she was up to. Although, it was awful, she cleaned the kitchen until it was shining.  
Glancing at his lack of food or drink she sighed, "I'mma have to make a bill for this man..." She got her wallet and glanced at her funds; around $200. She figured he'd pay her back and if not he did let her stay here. She picked up the deck of cards on his table and through them in her pocket. Once she got out the door, she stopped a woman and child walking past her.  
"You got a grocery store 'round here?"  
The woman nodded, "On 3rd street, real nice one."  
"Yea." She nodded and continued to go outside. As soon as she got outside he saw the sign for 3rd Street.  
"Least it's close." Burn mumbled to herself as she jogged to the mini-mart.  
It was clean and of decent size for her to get the essentials. She grabbed a cart and got eggs, milk, bread, rice, okra, tomato sauce, shrimp, onions, bell peppers, some seasonings, and rice. If she was gonna stay at his apartment she was gonna make him some proper gumbo. Not sure if he had a pot big enough for gumbo she got a cheap one too.  
When she got out side she remembered that she closed and locked the door to his apartment. Like an idiot.  
"Dammit."  
Burn turned around and went back in the store and grabbed a pack of paper clips. She picked back up her bags and headed to his apartment. As she approached the building she saw a man pacing the entrance looking nervous. She didn't recognize him and decided that she would get a couple cards in hand to be safe. She walked past him and felt a hand clamp down on her upper arm.  
"Give me all your money or ill blow your brains out right here." He mumbled.  
"Look, I don't have much money on me and you don't want me to hurt you, no? Just- go steal from someone with a lotta walking cash, cher." She sighed sitting down her groceries.  
"Gimme your money, bitch!"  
"You asked for it." She flicked the card at him cutting off his trigger finger. He shrieked and dropped the gun, wailing in pain.  
"Have good day, cher." She shook her head as she picked back up her grocery bags and stepped in the elevator.  
Once she got back up in the room she dug for the paper clips she bought and started picking the lock. (First person) I got in and set all my stuff down, getting my things ready to cook.  
I chopped up all the fixings, sat the shrimp in the roux pan and boiled the rice. Once it was all ready I mixed everything together in the gumbo pot and covered it. I started kneading the beignet dough, found a two-inch pan, and poured in the oil. I'd made my share of beignets in my time, I'd made enough in my short life to know that Wade would love them. I knew he ate a lot already so made 4 batches of 8.  
"Lucy! I'm home!" He shouted from the door.  
I jumped at his sudden shout, "Ah-" I laughed and hit him I'm the arm, "You nearly scared me to death!"  
"Ha, ooh!" He giggled, "whatcha makin', sweet cheeks?"  
"Couple batch of beignets, " I showed him under the towel, "and some gumbo for supper."  
"Look at you, little chef." He poked at my nose, "When's dinner?"  
"Soon," I laughed, "How was patrol?"  
"This feels awfully domestic for knowing each other two days now, but! I'm not going to complain, you're feeding me so...cool. Oh- patrol was sooo boring. I only slashed up three people! Three! All time low for me-" He rambled.  
"Well, that's nice," I interjected, "and what you mean domestic?"  
"You making me dinner, being all cute in here, and dessert..." He purred the last bit.  
"Nuh-uh, merc. I barely know your name." I pretended and spun around to face him.  
"Oh really now? You don't know the famous Deadpool, Wade Wilson?" He laughed, wrapping arms around me, seductively reaching under my vest.  
I got serious, "Now if your thinkin' I'm going to have sex with a grown man that I jut met yesterday, you've had one to many blows to the head."  
"I-"  
I shoved a finger onto his chest, "and if you think I'm some easy little slut you can rape and trash, you'll be piecing yourself back together till the bayou runs dry!"  
"I don't want to rape you!" He shouted, his scarred face contorting and his normal lopsided grin stretching into a scowl. "I'm just trying to impress you! I don't understand you! Every chick I've ever met loved this kinda shit! What's wrong with you?"  
I dropped the spoon and pushed past him.  
"No wait, I-," he tried.  
I slammed the door on the bathroom and sat on the floor.

A/N: hey Victims (you like the pet name? Gettit, I'm the lone assassin an-and you guys are the Victims... No? Well I think it's cool.) so ill update soon as I can, weekly hopefully. Oh, and remember that things might be spelled funny but that's just because she's Cajun  
~Love, Your Friendly Neighborhood Assassin~

PS: I made an update to chapter one so reread if you want.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> De'pouille = Filthy, messy, pig-like, etc.  
> Make a bill = go to the store  
> Cher = love, darling, boo, etc.


	3. Big Boy Stuff

Wades POV

She ran into the bathroom angrily, slamming the door behind herself.   
I sighed following behind her, "C'mon, Bernadette, I didn't mean it like that..."   
"Shut the fuck up, Wilson." She yelled through the door at me, "your supper's on the stove, eat it and leave me be."   
"No. I didn't mean it like that. I just meant...." I huffed again, "I don't understand what's so different about you. You're not easy and you don't want sex but for some reason, you're still here. And I've only known you a day and you're making me dinner? No ones ever been nice enough to feed me. One girl left me some breakfast on her way out one time but that was after a night of mind-blowing sex-"  
"I get it," she interjected, "you sleep with a lot of women."  
"No! Well, no. I have to coax them or keep on my mask or turn off all the lights. That's why I don't get you, you saw me without my mask and didn't freak out, you even complemented me, you don't want a quick fuck, and you made me dinner while I was out on patrol. You're... awesome."   
The other side was silent.   
I heard some shuffling then the door opened slowly. She looked up at me.   
"That's because I can tell you needed help." She whispered, "you needed real company, that would stay around for a while and care for you."  
I leaned down and slid my arms around her shorter frame, "I'm hugging you because I want to now. No sex. I promise."   
She pulled back, grinning, "ever?"   
"Oh shut up." I laughed, "When do I get some dinner tonight?"  
Her eyes widened a bit and she sprinted past me to the kitchen.   
"That was close, cher." She chuckled, serving up two plates of gumbo and handing me one.   
"What does that mean?" I asked.  
"What?"  
"Share," I wondered, "you keeping calling me share."  
"Cher, like mon chèrì," she spooned some food, "like love or darling."  
"OH." I felt dumb not realizing that, "duh..."   
I ate a bite of the gumbo before I realized how amazing it was and basically scraped the whole plate in my mouth. After seconds, and 7 beignets, I felt full and ready for some completely needed sleep.   
"I think I'm going to go to my room and sleep," I stood up, "stay on the couch this time."  
"No promises." She nodded.  
"Well," I said, "at least keep clear for half an hour."  
"Why is that?"  
"Big boy stuff, sweetums."   
Realization hit her and I couldn't help but giggle.  
"Oh gross, Wade." She scrunched up her nose and stood up to clean off the table and I left for my room.

A/N: short chapter, I know. I'll make up for it in the next one. Do remember smut will be in here sooner or later so yeah. Right; so Deadpool had feels... Crazy, eh? Couldn't help myself. Oh and if you guys want to have an image of Bernadette, I imagine her like http://www.pinterest.com/pin/138978338474606036/ this.   
~Love, Your Friendly Neighborhood Assassin~


	4. Still Here....But Why?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the crazy updates.... SO MUCH CRAP IS CURRENTLY HAPPENING IN MY LIFE. I'm trying.

Burn's POV  
Getting up from the warm bear-hug called Wade, I slid out of his arms slowly. When I was successfully out and standing, I padded into the kitchen and heated up the 6 beignets left over from last night. About the time I was getting them out I heard Wade coming in.   
"Morning, buttercup." He groaned, sleepily.  
"Indeed it is, Cher." I smiled.  
He was already dressed to go on patrol and was putting the blades on his back, "have some sweetness on your way, sweetness."   
He nodded an took the beignets, jumping out the window. I sat on his couch clicking in the TV. I flipped through the crap shows and finally settled on discovery channel.   
After two episodes of 'When Vacations Attack', I decided I needed to find something to eat.   
"What is it with this guy and pancakes...?" I remarked looking around the moderately clean kitchen.   
I walked up to the fridge and pulled out a beer.   
"One helluva breakfast, Burn." I mumbled to myself.  
Walking back into the den, I looked up at his door. I sauntered to it and slowly pushed it open. Purely out of curiosity, I took a step in and glanced around. This was the first time I had really ever paid attention to his room. The first time, I was tired and covered in blood, and the second and third times it was dark. Now I could see everything.   
On the far wall, the first one I noticed, there were tons of guns and knifes and a few grimy boxes labeled randomly. The other wall had an old computer and a busted looking window. On the wall the door was at there were a few posters of himself and what looked like a deflated blowup doll. I laughed shaking my head and made the bed. His closet consisted of about four of his suits and some random things like a Led Zeppelin shirt, three unmatched socks, a pair of black basketball shorts and a red beanie. I nearly fell over laughing imagining Wade in a black Zeppelin shirt, basketball shorts and a red beanie.   
"Nope," I giggled, "maybe I'll try to get him some normal clothes to wear around here."   
I started straightening up and looked sternly at the knife in my hands.   
'This isn't me...' I frowned, thinking, 'I'm not a housewife. What am I doing here still?' I say down the knife and went back into his bathroom to find my wallet.   
Once I got it and checked I had a whole $20. Dammit.   
I found my dead cell phone and threw it down. I walked back into his den and reached for his landline and dialed my Pa's number.   
It rung.  
"You got the cell of Remy LaBeau, le'me a message an' ill get back real soon." Beep.   
"Ey Pa, I'm gonna take out a few bills from the bank. Lots of love." I hung up and say back on the chair in his den, thinking I could get a little nap in.   
Just as I was getting comfortable, I heard a loud knock at the door.   
"I'm coming, hold on now..." I mumbled, trying to get to the door and ignore the frantic knocks.  
As soon as I swung open the door id regretted it.   
"Pa... What are you doing here?"

A/N: I am so sorry for the wait. And it looks like there'll be another one since I'm leaving for my vacation tomorrow. But I'll try to get up another chapter in the next week or so. Sorry, victims...  
~Love, Your Friendly Neighborhood Assassin~


	5. I Really *Do* Care

"C'mon, B," Pa motioned, "getcha things an' were leavin'."   
He turned to walk away from the open door frame and I stayed still.  
He noticed that I didn't follow, "Bernadette LaBeau, get your ass out here."   
"No, Pa." I whispered, "I'm staying with Wade."   
He walked back squinting at me, "What the hell are you thinkin'? You're not stayin' with this pervert."   
"Yes, I am."  
"Is it 'cause he's tryin' to...? That little - he- I'm gonna kill him." Pa pushed into the room and looked around angrily reaching for his card deck.   
"He's out." I stood still at the doorway.  
"Not only is he mess in' with my Burn, he's leaving her alone here?" He barked.  
"He had to leave for patrol. An' you left me for days all the time!" I remarked.  
"That's diff'rent... You had Bubba and Sam." He countered, stepping closer.  
"Sometimes, I'm grown now Pa. My 18th birthday is in two weeks. You gotta let me do this on my own." I blinked pulling on my vest, I knew he didn't want to let me stay here but he more than likely would.   
"...Fine. If you wanna stay with this fool then do it; I can't stop you." And with that he left. 

After a few hours of pacing, Wade finally got back. Of course, I should have expected serious injury. He stepped in through the door hold his left arm with his right hand. The severely mangled arm looked like it had been ripped off then partially chewed.  
"Damn mutts..." He mumbled plopping on his couch and pushing the arm back into place and holding it there, "Can you run in the bathroom and get me two tubes that say topical lidocaine and Solaraze?"   
"Of course." As I was walking away I heard him hiss in pain, probably because the healing process was painful.  
I tended to forget that even though he can heal he's permanently in pain from it.   
When I got back into the den he was sat back with his head thrown back and groaning in pain.   
I walked over to him and slowly pulled off his mask, he flinched a little but sighed.   
"Lean forward." I ordered, he slowly did and I unzipped his suit, pulling it off his shoulders slowly. He stood up and I slid it off the rest of the way. Thankfully he had on grey boxer-briefs.   
He sat back down and I gently pushed him to a laying position.  
"Lay on your stomach." He slowly rolled over and I pushed his legs apart to sit between them.   
"You don't have to touch me, I know it's gross looking." He sighed into the pillow.   
"I don't know why you keep saying that. Your not gross, and I want to do this for you; you deserve it." I smiled, even though I knew he couldn't see it.  
I had a little experience with topical anesthetics and pain gels so I knew what to do.   
I grabbed the warm washcloth and softly washed his back, arms and neck as he steadily slowed his breathing back to normal.   
When I carefully patted him dry, grabbed the Solaraze, and squeezed out a good sized dollop into my hand and warmed it.   
With the first contact my hands had with his shoulder blades, I could feel all the puffy stripes, bumps, ridges, scrapes, and rough patches.   
"Hm- that's another first." He snorted.  
"What is?" I asked massaging my thumbs into his shoulders.   
He moaned softly and sighed, "Someone is purposely touching me for my benefit, not theirs."   
"Well, glad to do it for you." I rubbed more gel into his lower back and shoulders then reached for the topical anesthetic, giggling at his noise from the loss of my hands. I watched his pale blue eyes flutter shut in relaxation and smiled to myself. He was a piece of art. He didn't recognize how fascinating he was to look at and study. The ridges and scars over his back made a design personalized to Wade Wilson and I felt special getting to be one of few people that get to enjoy the view.   
"You know, I don't get why you're still here; why are you doing nice things for me? No one ever stays around, no one cares enough to." He asked, voice occasionally faltering because of me rubbing his neck.  
I sat quietly for a while as I finished rubbing in the lidocaine, centralizing it on the newly formed scar around his left shoulder, then finally answered, "because I do care about you. You talk down like you hate yourself and I can't, for the life of me, figure out why you do so much."   
"Well," he exhaled to the side, flexing the rugged span of his back, "because aside from you people don like the scars and cuts. The whole rugged, bad boy thing only goes so far. Women are disgusted or appalled. It's not like it's the social norm to look like this, it's not like people look like this usually. I've been alone for ever- well, it feels like forever. No one has offered to stay or wanted to... until you came along."   
I laid over him and presses a light kiss to the back of his head.   
"I've been the same way. Granted a lot less time alone, but I have been the social outcast my whole life. My father was the only one around and he wasn't there often. So as soon as my abilities developed I left and did what had to be done. The only thing I could do; kill."   
He sat silently and breathed slowly, "That help any?" I asked.  
"Mm, yeah, a lot actually. I feel almost good." He laughed.   
I stood up and washed my hands and came back to him still laying there.   
"Turn over?" I asked.  
"Sure." He flipped over and closed his eyes. I put my knees on either side of his hips and got the other washcloth to clean the blood away. After I dried his chest, I squeezed some pain gel into my hands, warmed it and rubbed it into the fresh scars. He hissed out in pain and my movements stilled.   
"No, keep going." He sighed.   
I resumed rubbing the circles with my thumbs and watched his face contort and relax as I smoothed my hands down his chest and reached for the anesthetic.   
I noticed that it was out of reaching distance so I did what seemed normal; rocked forward to grab it.   
"Fuck-"  
The noise that he made caused me to sit back up quickly and look at him confused.   
"Uh... Sorry? Did I hurt you?" I asked unsure of whether the sound was of pain or pleasure.   
"....no.... Pretty much the opposite." He laughed casually pushing me off him.   
As he stood up, I immediately flushed noticing the clearly tented boxer-briefs.   
Not sure how to feel about the current situation, I stumbled backwards, mumbled a 'I'm going.....I'll....wash my hands.', and walked to the bathroom.   
Once I got into the bathroom, slammed the door and drew in a breath, my eyes got wide and I thought about it for a minute while I washed my hands.  
A series of thoughts like, 'How the hell am I supposed to respond to that....?' And, 'what do I say?' And 'should I leave now...?'  
Regulating my breath, I opened the door to find him no where to be found. 

A/N: well yep. Not really and end notes just uh, sorry for the crap updates.... I've been really busy. Love you, victims!  
~Love, Your Friendly Neighborhood Assassin~


End file.
